


Knothole

by amyfortuna



Series: 2016 Season of Kink (Card 1) [14]
Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Anonymous Sex, First Time Blow Jobs, Glory Hole, Laws and Customs Among the Eldar, M/M, Semi-Public Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-27
Updated: 2016-09-27
Packaged: 2018-08-18 04:16:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,333
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8148817
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amyfortuna/pseuds/amyfortuna
Summary: Fingon wants to find some illicit sex in Tirion; he finally gets his wish.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Fulfils my Season of Kink square for anonymity.

If you knew where to go, Tirion was a haven for Elves interested in sexual exploits of all kinds that ran decidedly counter to the famed Laws and Customs. 

Fingon was definitely interested, but so far hadn't had much luck in finding those secret places. It was always around the next corner, tucked away in a hidden alley, behind a dark door with mysterious symbols that he didn't understand. Rumours and innuendo were all that reached him -- agemates gossiping about the sex they'd managed to obtain from unknown places: a hand job here, a blow job there, frottage with a cousin, illicitly lusted after, a stolen kiss or two with a friend. 

He didn't much care who it was with, he just wanted to find someone with whom he could relieve the lust that seemed to be constantly burning under his skin ever since he'd hit his forties. There was no great rhyme or reason to his searching, just unfocused need that overpowered him now and again, sent him seeking through the scummiest districts of lower Tirion, wearing disguises of all kinds, hoping for a lucky break one day. People were naturally reluctant to speak to the son of one of the High Princes about places to give in to baser desires, but in disguise, he could play any part he liked. 

It had been another long fruitless search all through Telperion's shining. Lust burned through him. He'd been half-hard the whole night, and his search had led him down alley after alley, into dark places full of filth that stank of cheap wine and piss. At last he'd given up, as the Mingling began. It was deathly quiet in the city; the quietest part of the whole day, just before Laurelin's light began to shine again. 

Halfway back to his own home, in one of the nicer areas of the city, a public convenience was built partly into the cliffside. Unlike most of the other public privies in the lower part of the city, this one was kept somewhat neat, but it wasn't pristine. The Elf who was responsible for it clearly wasn't dedicated to their job, but neither were they entirely neglectful. Fingon walked to the very last toilet in the row and slipped inside, closing the door firmly behind himself. 

Halfway up the wall, just at hip height, there was what appeared to be a knothole in the wood. At first Fingon was inclined to dismiss it, thinking it a natural consequence of the wood used to make the wall. It was not positioned at a point where it would violate his privacy unduly, especially considering there was no one in the stall next to him. Idly, he ran his fingers over it, noting the smoothness of the wood. It really was just at the right height for....

Fingon jerked his fingers back. Cautiously, he brought them to his nose. A musky scent greeted him, but far from putting him off, the smell sent his senses reeling. Just then the outer door banged open, and he gasped, flattening himself against the far wall, heedless of the cold stone that formed the outer wall of the privy. 

A dark shape, just barely visible through the knothole, flitted into the stall next to him. After a moment, a harsh voice whispered, "do you want to go first, or shall I?" The voice was low and raspy, perhaps disguised. Fingon started forward. 

"Oh," he said, forgetting to disguise his own voice, "...you?" 

"Very well," the voice replied. Cloth rustled, and after a moment, a dark red cock, already hard, was pressed through the knothole. It was so thick that it nearly didn't fit. Fingon's mouth watered, but he didn't move, just staring. "Well?" the voice said, impatient. "Get on with it. The Mingling'll be over soon, and I've got places to be." 

Fingon sank to his knees. He felt like he was in a dream; he'd read erotic fiction in which this sort of thing happened, but never expected to really experience it. Bending forward, he let the head of the cock slip between his lips. 

"Watch your teeth!" the stranger hissed, and Fingon jumped a little, making sure to cover them up carefully before he took the cock back into his mouth. Pre-come was already leaking from the head, and the stranger must have been pressing his hips fully into the wall next door. He was thrusting a little, even, into Fingon's mouth as Fingon took him deeper. 

How did they do it, in those erotic tales? Fingon swirled his tongue around the head of the cock in his mouth, and the stranger groaned softly. Emboldened, he began to try different strokes, one after the other, from tiny frequent licks to long sweeps of his tongue, finding all the spots on the stranger's cock that made him cry out or moan. 

Fingon was hopelessly aroused himself, dizzy with it almost. He pressed the heel of his hand to his own erection, feeling some relief, and continued lapping up the stranger's pre-come from the slit at the head of his cock. The taste of it was like nothing he'd ever known - bitter as arugula, salty like oysters, savoury as pork but like none of them at all even so. 

Long before he was finished experimenting, the stranger gave a sudden, desperate gasp. "I'm about to..." His voice was ragged, hoarse, but higher-pitched. 

Fingon responded by taking him deeper, sucking hard around him. The stranger gave a deep moan and came, his cock pulsing gush after gush of slippery seed into Fingon's mouth. Fingon swallowed it down, the taste strong in his mouth, as the stranger's breathing slowly calmed, and the cock slid out of his mouth. 

"Now you," the stranger said after a little while, and Fingon arose. The cock vanished from the hole. He fumbled with his clothes anxiously, freeing his erection, and fed it through, relieved that it was almost immediately taken into a warm wet mouth. 

The sensation of being inside someone else was almost too much; he had much ado not to come right away. Hands flat against the wall, he pressed forward with his hips as far as he could. The stranger licked over the head of him, delicately stroking just where it was most sensitive. He was clearly more practiced, having no trouble taking Fingon's length down his throat, swallowing around him. Fingon could barely move, but thrust his hips a few times, feeling the soft flesh of the stranger's mouth yielding to him. It was too much to bear. 

He came suddenly, long before he would have wanted to, unable to hold back. The stranger took it all, swallowing easily, drinking him down, and Fingon sagged against the wall, worn out. The mouth drew away from him, and after a moment, he gathered himself together, pulled his shrinking cock out of the wall, and set his clothes to rights. 

"That was really nice," the stranger said, and his voice was less hoarse now. He sounded about Fingon's own age. "Do you come here often?"

"Never before," Fingon said. 

"Well, if you want to do it again," the stranger said, "meet me here at the same time four Minglings from now."

"Yes," Fingon found himself breathing. "Until then." 

He heard the stall door opening, and the stranger leaving. After another moment to finish gathering his breath, he followed, leaving the privy in the early light of the Mingling. The whole experience hadn't taken that long. Off in the distance, heading down the hill, he saw a figure with dark hair striding away - the only person in view. Could that have been his mysterious stranger? 

A brief pause staring after the vanishing figure, and he shook his head. There was no way to be sure. Fingon turned to head up the hill toward his father's house, giddy with anticipation and exhaustion. Four Minglings away seemed an eternity, but he knew where he would be once they were over.

**Author's Note:**

> Any speculation on who Fingon's mysterious partner was? :D


End file.
